I’ve always wondered why Mr. Chris, who is always dressed in the most expensive suit, always comes to our slum home, calls my dad "Sir,” and always leaves before leaving. I once asked my dad, but he told me Mr. Chris was just grateful for the time he saved his wife’s life.
I always thought, If that’s true, then why not ask him to help you with your finances so we can leave this god-forsaken slum? I know my parents are very content with what they have; I have never seen them beg before. I don’t even know the job my dad does; he would go out with the same shabby clothes every day, like it’s his work uniform. This struggle has toughened me up, and I always spend my money with caution. I buy what is necessary and make sure to save the rest.
Our life was easy going; we never bothered anyone, and we always stayed on our line. Everything was going smoothly until Mr. Smith, the renowned economist, decided to buy our home because he wanted to build a cinema. The price was enticing, but my parents refused the money because it was their hard-earned income that was used to build it. Mr. Smith came several times, yet he was refused.
After many attempts and refusals, we started getting threatened by local thugs. It became so bad that I refuse to step out of the house sometimes. Eventually, that Sunday afternoon, after we got back from church service, Two police vans came to our home with another big truck with the aim of driving us out of our home. They kicked down our door, but my parents refused to stand up from where they were seated.
I was dragging with the thugs that are throwing out our property, but I wasn’t strong enough to do that alone. Mr. Smith was outside in a Landcruiser Jeep, watching how we were being harassed by the local authorities and thugs. I ran to my dad with tears in my eyes. I have been so strong all these years, and that was the first time I would cry to him as an adult.
He got up angrily, picked up his phone, made a call and said, “Bring them in; someone is disturbing my peace.”
20 minutes later, the country militants came with different hilux buses, and security guards and police came with them. It was then that I knew it was over for us. I gave up already, then came Mr. Chris: “Young master, you shouldn’t let people see you like this.” I was shocked by his words but refused to pay any attention. The security guards came in and bowed to my parents. They kicked out the thugs and arrested all of them, including the local police.
After everything had happened, my dad came to me and explained how he was the owner of most of the mighty businesses in our country. He decided to live a simple life while Mr. Chris handled most of the business. I felt betrayed, but everything vanished after I realised how much my dad has and how young of a billionaire I am.
It was a betrayal I forgave in a split second; there was no going back. I welcomed myself to the luxurious life; I have suffered enough.
This is my entry for the Hiveghana weekly prompt. This fashtiolwa. The alien from Mars.
Behind the scenes. My dad had shares in Mr smith company, so I took out all the share.😁🫶🏽